Pressure Builds
by Lifeasanamazon
Summary: They’ve got her at last. They’ve found her out at last .
1. Default Chapter

Author: Angie

Email: AngieSuth@aol.com

Title: Pressure Builds

Characters: CJ/Toby 

Rating: R 

Summary: They've got her at last. They've found her out at last 

Disclaimer: Not mine at all. Apart from the slimy Mike Phillips.

Spoilers: Post Ep to 25.

Feedback: Always appreciated.

A/N: Maeve – you get your fight! Thanks for caring enough to want to inspire me. And all my other friends for being so encouraging. And Rhonda – always.

*

Pressure Builds

*

CJ closed her office door and leaned heavily against it. The meeting with Walken's press representative had been worse than dreadful. She knew that he was under pressure, no one expected him to be at the top of his game with such an abrupt entry into the Major Leagues, but he could have at least been pleasant about it - polite, civil, even. 

She could feel the pressure behind her eyes building, not sure if it was a headache looming or tears threatening, but knowing that she needed to get home before she could find out safely.

*

One click of the light switch in her living room and she is temporarily blinded by the brightness. She thinks maybe it is the headache after all. 

CJ slings her jacket over the nearby easy chair and sinks down, fingers rubbing at her temples in some sort of distracting irregular motion. Exhaustion threatens to overwhelm her and she registers the need for food and drink, or at least the knowledge that if she skips one more meal the headache will turn into a migraine. She sighs and levers herself to standing. Then she sees him. 

He is leaning against her picture window, head bowed, but eyes locked onto her. 

She doesn't scream; only because the sound would pierce her fragile shell and shatter her. She forgets to breathe. And then a thousand thoughts jostle for expression.

"The babies? Is  . . . are?"

He shakes his head once and she exhales.

"Zoey?"

A shrug.

She smothers all other external concerns and focuses on him. She can't remember the last time he let himself into her apartment without prior warning. And then she can, and she blinks it away and smoothes the fear from the pit of her stomach with her hand.

Toby sees the gesture and an unaccustomed softness steals across his face. 

CJ notices and this worries her more than she can explain. She takes hurried steps towards him and stops with her hand on his shoulder. His eyes burn into hers and all she can think of doing is this, this soft pout that just happens to land on his lips, brushing the hairs on his top lip and tasting oh, oh so sweet. Better than she ever thought it would, had she ever allowed herself to think about it in the last six years or so.

Toby pulls away first, his lips sticking slightly to hers. 

CJ's eyes are closed, her cheeks flushed and she whimpers at the loss of contact; immediately misses the softness of his lips and the dark flavor of him. She has an unbearable urge to cover his mouth again, to chew on his bottom lip, to taste the blood her teeth draws to the surface. She moves to kiss him again, pressing her body hard against his and taking his face in both of her hands.

He doesn't resist, doesn't reciprocate. Lets her wash him with her desire, bathes himself in her passion. He swallows her pain mixed saliva as though it were sweet nectar. He hardens in spite of himself and it is enough to make him step back – withdraw - retire.

Toby pulls at her hands and then pushes her shoulders. 

CJ spins and topples, falling sideways into the desk chair and then crashing to the floor. Tears spring unbidden to her eyes and she isn't sure whether her hip or her heart hurts more. She turns away from him and, like Bambi, finds her feet. And then she cries. "Turn off the light on your way out."

He does. He leaves – never having spoken a word.

*

New York 1983

*

"Hey, CJ you have a visitor." Ellen bit into her apple and waved it vaguely in the direction of CJ's bedroom. CJ grinned and threw her bags onto the floor of the living room.

"Anyone exciting?" She glanced over her shoulder as she hung up her coat.

"Just Toby. He was here when I got home." CJ's roommate kept her eyes glued on the television, failing to observe the small, pleased smile that played on CJ's lips.

"So, no one exciting then . . ." CJ half ran down the hallway and opened her bedroom door.

*

Toby is standing at the foot of her bed, hands stuffed in pockets and the newly acquired beard almost hiding the tense line of his mouth.

"Hey!" CJ can't hide her pleasure at seeing her friend. " I thought you were hitting the campaign trail, I wasn't expecting to see you for another month." She bends to slip her shoes under the bed and sprawls across the comforter on her stomach, gesturing for Toby to sit next to her. "I hope you didn't give Ellen a heart attack – I forgot to tell her you had a key." Head propped on her hand, she rolls to her side to observe the man still silently standing.

"What is it?" Something in his eyes makes her heart flutter.

"He's come home."

One sentence and CJ can see that Toby's life has come apart.

"For how long?"

"He says for good. Mother says for now." Toby walks to the window and draws back the blind a fraction. "I say that he tends to mean what he says." He turns back to CJ.

"What are you going to do?" CJ understands the enormity of his distress.

"Can I live with you?" The question is hardly a question. He will not take no for an answer and she knows it. And it scares her. Terrifies her.

"Toby . . ."

Toby stares at her, sees her confusion, sees her fear; doesn't care. Something has to give and it can't be him. It can't be him anymore because he has come adrift; he's floating rudderless and she is the nearest thing to an anchor he has. She has to save him.

"CJ, please . . ." 

This ends her. Please, never please.

"No, Toby. You have to face him. I am not your girlfriend, you have one of those – go and live with her; dump the troubles of the world on her shoulders. Shout about your father to her and drink her whisky and sleep in her bed. Don't put pressure on me with your fucking 'please'." Desperation makes her cruel and she knows it. Her floodgates are open and she can't force the words back against the deluge, even as she sees him go under.

He disappears from her life for three years. She has never been good around water since.

*

Senior staff as usual, except that it isn't as usual, because the President's name isn't Bartlet.

CJ is the first to arrive and sits gingerly on one of the couches. She knows the President is in the Situation Room and that Leo hasn't slept in two nights; she knows that Josh is running himself into the ground and that Will is the glue keeping him together, the calm in the middle of the localized storm.

She no longer knows Toby. 

She feels as if she is floating, dangerously for the first time in her life, without direction and purpose – she has lost her paddle and her life jacket, having thrown them overboard in that kiss.

Leo notes her pallor and is about to question her when the others arrive. 

Toby disconcerts her by sitting down next to her, his hand brushing hers as he reaches for his notepad. 

CJ startles at the contact and jerks her head back, her eyes catching his for a fraction of a second before Leo's voice pulls her in.

"We have no news." Leo opens the file on his desk, then takes in the exhausted scene before him. "You will be the first to hear, but at the moment there is nothing to add. Go home, all of you. Sleep." He pauses and then adds, "CJ, I need you to take a meeting with Mike Phillips here, straight after staff."

CJ nods and tightens the grip on her folder.

A warm hand pulls her to standing, and although she still cannot look him in the eye, she hears Toby's voice murmur in her ear.   "I'll wait in my office."

The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach intensifies with the memory of the last time she heard something like those words and what they signified.

*

Phillips sidles into the room before CJ has a chance to ask Leo what he needs. The look on his face is enough to set her alarm bells ringing, before a word is even spoken.

"Mike, nice to see you again." CJ attempts a genuine smile but can only manage a poor imitation of one. Were she not so preoccupied with Toby, she would have allowed herself the luxury of a little righteous anger, a tingle of superiority. But she is preoccupied, so she misses a subdued Leo, a Leo almost ashamed.

Phillips is smug.

He kicks off, "CJ, Leo has no doubt told you of the difficult decision the President feels obliged to make." He cannot hide his satisfaction at her shock and how Leo seems to have shrunk a further inch since the last time he saw him.

"I, er," CJ looks to her friend, her boss, for support and is stunned by just how old and ill he appears. "Leo?" Her hand reaches out involuntarily and Leo sees it. He straightens and looks her in the eye.

"I haven't yet had the chance, Mike. If you had arrived on schedule, maybe I could have prepared CJ for your news."

She notes the emphasis on 'your', but she has never mastered the signals. Not like the boys. She is all at sea.

Phillips lowers himself onto a chair and crosses his legs. CJ really believes that he is the most unattractive man she has ever met, but is then sidetracked yet again by the thought that Toby is, and always has been, her measuring stick in this matter. Not Sam. Always Toby. Strange, she thinks.

She is pulled out of her reverie by the man's voice. 'Ugly man, ugly voice', she chants in her head and starts to wonder if she ought to be in this conversation, this meeting. There is something not quite right.

". . .believes that you are too involved. . ."

"Wait!" CJ holds up her hand. "Who believes that I am too involved in what?"

Phillips smiles, his point about her readiness for the job given emphasis by her apparent failure to keep up with the most simple of his arguments. He condescends to start again. "The President feels that you are too closely associated with the Bartlet administration . . ." He hears Leo growl and nods to cede the point. "Excuse me - too emotionally involved with this tragic situation to be able to face the world's press." 

He glances at her face, encouraged by the blank canvas, emboldened by her passivity. "The circumstances require a certain amount of objectivity; we need to be able to manipulate the media, control the information leaked to the kidnappers. . ."

At last she surfaces. Her face contorts in fury and she rises to her full height, plus an inch. "What the hell do you think I do everyday, several times a day? What the hell do you think I have been doing for the last five years . ."

Leo thinks she might physically attack the man cowering in the chair opposite.

"CJ!" His tone is sharp and she, from years of respect and love, stops. Breathes. Starts again.

"Look, Mike. I know my job. I have worked through crises as big as this, more dangerous even. Many lives have hinged on my words, my ability to spin the truth, to obfuscate. I have worked through the shooting of my President, the disclosure of his illness. Why should I lose this ability now? What is different now?"

Phillips tries a different tack. "The Press Room is your home, CJ. The Bartlets are your family. An obscene attack has been made on that and you need to let someone else take the strain, use their professional distance for the benefit of all of us."

CJ closes her eyes and imagines herself blown away from the shore. No matter how hard she tries, she makes no impact on getting back to it and she is consumed by such a bone-aching weariness that she is overwhelmingly tempted to let the tide wash her away.

Her Josh, her Will, her Carol. Leo. Her Toby. Oh, Toby. Do they know? Have they _knowingly_ cast her adrift?

His voice finally penetrates the flood of betrayal. She can't quite understand his meaning, her mind is filled with the faces of her colleagues; the whispering mouths, the looks of conspiracy. They've got her at last. They've found her out at last.

"The President needs a Social Secretary, someone who knows who is who, someone who looks good and sounds good . ." There is a jubilation in Phillips' tone that makes her head spin.

Leo cuts in, "Mike, I think you'll find that CJ is more . ." He stops, unable to form the words, then braces himself against his desk and starts again. "Nancy says there is a vacancy in the NSC Press Office . . ."

CJ makes a sound that resembles nothing either man has heard before. They stop and wait in silence.

When she raises her eyes the first thing she notices is that Leo can't look at her.

Somehow she finds the words.

"You want me to go where . . .?" CJ cannot express her heartache. She never, in all honesty, saw herself being pushed aside. Resigning, yes. On more than one occasion, but . . they don't want her any more . . .

"I think that we all know I am unable to take that position - either position" She cannot bring herself to address them by name. Common courtesy is too bitter on her tongue. " I am not to be pitied, and although I understand that you want people to know that I'm not needed here, you could at least have had the decency not to make me the object of Nancy McNally's charity. And whomever else you touted my services to." CJ digs her nails into her palms to try and dissipate the red mist that hangs above her eyes. 

 "I have a fair amount of annual leave owing to me from the last five years. I shall take it immediately and wait for you to decide if this is a permanent change you're instituting."  The last word comes out as a hiss and CJ realizes that she needs to get out of the room before she breaks into pieces.

"CJ . ." Leo's voice echoes in her head but it is too late. She is gone. She thinks how fortunate it is that she knows the West Wing so well, how many times she has walked and run and stumbled through it, because that is what she is doing now. Only now she cannot see through her tears and her shame and the fog of not knowing herself; who she is and what she can do. She is five years old again, and suddenly the smallest in the class.

She has been caught in a rip tide. She can't remember how to survive it.

*

Toby paces his office, pounds the floor, rubs his head, but still she doesn't come. The others leave without saying goodbye, there is a sense of wrongness without the comprehension of what exactly has gone wrong. 'No CJ. Where is CJ? It's not the same without CJ.' Toby can't hear them say it, but he knows it's being thought and that refrain continues to run through his mind. 

'No CJ. Where is CJ? It's not the same without CJ.'  This has been the song of his blood as long as he can remember. Before New York, before his life fell apart and he realized that he loved his friend more than his father. Loved his friend more than his family. More than his future wife.

When he chooses to wait for her rather than go back to the hospital, he understands that she has taken root in him, they have grown together, and, much as he loves his children, he cannot abandon her without abandoning part of himself too. The clock moves on and so does he.

*

Several hours later, as the morning light stains his skin, Toby turns the key in his front door. He has lost hope and the edge of reason. She didn't come back, she wasn't at home; she has been swept away, he's certain. Except he's not, because she is there, in his apartment, framed against the early sun.

"CJ!"  His voice breaks and he lunges for her, ignoring her silence, her rigidity. 

The blow takes him by surprise. The sound of the crack of skin meeting skin fills his ears and there is a second before he feels the pain and the warm drip of blood.

"You bastard." Her voice is low and rasping and he senses rather than sees her hand raised to slap him again.

"You knew, you knew! Bastard, bastard!" Fists flailing now, and he is only conscious of not wanting to hurt her more than she is hurting already. It occurs to him that he will have some explaining to do tomorrow; but then again not, and he knows that Leo will add this to the burden he already carries. 

Toby thinks she must tire soon, else she will knock him unconscious, and then how will he hold onto her, pick up her pieces. How will he retrieve her spirit amongst the jetsam, the wreckage?

She subsides at last, worn out more than anything, and sinks to the floor on her haunches like the little girl she has become. Toby struggles to crawl to her, his head and body aching from the blows she has rained on him, blood from his mouth and nose smearing his hands and staining the light-colored carpet.

He says nothing, but lifts a shaking hand to her face and watches her tears turn red to pink as they cleanse his scratches. She appears unmarked on the outside and how he wishes he could turn her inside out and treat the internal injury, the wounds that run invisibly deep.

Toby holds her now, sitting awkwardly on the floor and pulling her into his lap, trying not to flinch at the contact with bruised skin - and she lets him. She lets him rock her and chant to her and warm her; though she still shivers. She can't seem to stop shivering. 

He lays back and pulls her with him, keeping her body close to his as he stretches out on the floor. He really is too old for this, but this is CJ, so he has no choice. He no longer has the power to choose where she is concerned.

"You lied to me." Her voice in his ear is raw and indistinct. Her face is pressed into his neck and he has to really focus to hear her.

"You lied to me," she repeats, "you told me I could do this, you told me I was good enough."

Toby closes his eyes. This is not what he was expecting. This is worse. He can handle her anger – even hopes for it – anger shows fight, shows spirit. But how can he tell her that she is so much better than the rest of them, when she has just been shown the opposite.

He chooses not to answer her, but drags her to sitting and somehow uses his screaming muscles to get them to his bedroom and onto the bed. All he can think is that if he lets her sleep, keeps her with him, she'll be safe. If she is safe, then so is he.

*

CJ opens her eyes. She tastes bitter adrenaline and dried blood. Her eyes are almost puffed shut, but she can still see the man laying next to her, feel his arms around her; strong even in sleep. She can see the discoloration around his mouth and eyes, the lump on his cheekbone, the blood around his nose, leaked and dried in his beard.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," she whispers over and over again, her fingers with their nails still cracked with Toby's blood, feathering apology over his battered skin. He shifts and she freezes, unwilling to confront her horror. She desperately needs answers to her questions, to her accusations, but she fears she may have damaged herself irreparably not only in her own eyes; but in Toby's. And Toby and her sense of self are tied up together more than she has ever understood before. 

She is drowning in fear.

As he wakes, Toby feels CJ's breath on his cheek, her fingers on his face and the terror in her mind. Instinctively he pulls her closer and his body groans in remembered pain.

"It's okay, I love you, it's okay." His muttered reassurance is heartfelt and he can only hope that she hears him, feels his sincerity, trusts him not to let her slip away. 

"You need to go to the hospital, Toby." Her voice is cracked and dry. She looks at the clock on his bedside table. They have slept for two hours and the morning has well and truly arrived.

"It looks worse than it is." He mumbles, his lip cracking once more and beginning to ooze blood.

This, amazingly, makes her smile. "I mean Andi – Molly and Huck. You can't not go and see them."

He turns to look at her but does not loosen his hold. "I can't leave you, CJ. If I let you go you'll run and I can't handle that again."

TBC


	2. Part 2

Pressure Builds 2/3

Notes and Disclaimers in Part 1. Thank you all for the amazing feedback.

And Rhonda. 'Rescued by Rhonda' should hang on my wall.

*

Toby swung open the door to the bar. The place was crowded and smoky; just the way he liked it. But he couldn't appreciate it today, not until he was sure she was there as she'd only half promised she'd be.

*

A quick scan of the sea of faces doesn't show him hers, so he sits sideways to the door; he doesn't want her to know he's looking for her. To tell the truth, he's spent nearly all his life keeping her in his peripheral vision. Not obvious enough to have to justify it to himself or others, but enough for him to have peace of mind, a sense of ease that just isn't there when she's not.

It has been the week from hell.

CJ sees him as she comes out of the ladies' room.  She sees the remnants of his bruising, the slight puffiness instead of the vicious swelling of a few days ago. She thinks he's aged ten years in the last week and she blames herself. Her rational mind knows that it's not all her fault, but her rational mind is in hiding these days; it's her instincts and emotions that drive her now. She leans carefully against him as she lowers herself onto the stool next to his, but doesn't look at him directly. Ever since she left the West Wing a week ago, she has lived in fear of being recognized and asked what she is doing with herself. She has only stayed in DC for Toby. Shame at her violence towards him and a desperate kind of need to be near him have anchored her to the spot.

She has been in hell.

*

"My God, Toby!" Leo blanched at the sight of his friend and colleague. "You're gonna press charges, aren't you?"

Toby stared at him. "I don't think so, Leo."

It took a moment for the penny to drop and then Leo looked so hunted that Toby almost wished he'd stayed at home 'til the worst of the bruising had gone.

"Okay. Well I'm glad you made it in, anyway. Thank you." Leo sat behind his desk. "I need you to work with Phillips. I know that it's difficult, I know that he's offensive and antagonistic." A glimmer of a smile, "A Republican." A sigh,  "But he's what we have and if we don't play ball, it won't just be CJ who's considered the sacrificial lamb." Leo looked hard at Toby. "I need you inside on this. No room for sentiment – this is the real thing. Jed needs us. Abbey needs us. God knows Zoey needs us. You have to put her to one side, Toby – you have to focus here."

Toby ignored the 'I need CJ' screaming inside his head and echoing through his bones, and nodded his consent. He had to dig deep.

The Bull Pen was strangely subdued as he walked through it. A few 'hey's thrown his way and not one comment on his injuries. He ignored the darkness from CJ's office, the absence of Carol, and stood silently in Josh's doorway.

Josh knew he was there without even looking up.  "We gotta do something, Toby. They are taking us apart. Phillips is crap up there – they hate him. It's like the lunatics are taking over the asylum . . . any minute now I expect Donna will disappear and then Ginger and Will. They'll be replaced by slimy bastards who don't care about this administration, who don't care about Jed Bartlet." Josh paused for breath. " You know what really sticks in my throat, Toby?" 

Josh stood and leaned clenched fists on his desk, "They couldn't care less if Zoey lives or dies. Just so long as they clean up the mess and the guys who did it are crucified. It shames me Toby, it shames me."

Josh took in the older man's appearance for the first time. " She's with you, right? You're taking care of her? I mean, Jesus, she did * nothing * wrong. Nothing. What the fuck is going on, Toby? You have to put it right!  We need her back here."

Once again, Toby merely nodded and moved on. The sanctuary of his own office offered no respite; message after message, mainly from Andi. Andi wanting to know where he was; Andi needing him to bring her more baby clothes and diapers; craving chocolate and her laptop; Andi threatening to deny him paternal rights unless he got his ass over to the hospital. 

And a message from CJ. 

He rang right away.

*

CJ let the phone ring, listening to the answering machine click on and off.  Too many unanswered messages filled the machine's memory.  It couldn't take anymore.  Neither of them could.

*

Toby orders himself a double scotch and an iced water for her. He knows she hasn't touched alcohol since it happened; she's frightened of losing her mind, losing her control. Hitting him again. He slides the drink towards her and watches as she tips the glass, waiting until the liquid is sure to spill onto the bar before righting it suddenly and staring at the small waves it makes. It's all a matter of control for her – and he feels helpless in the tide of her despair.

CJ clutches her glass tightly and wonders just how hard she would have to squeeze before it shatters. Wonders just how hurt she has to be before she breaks, how cruel before he walks. 

*

CJ read the note from Carol one more time before balling it in her hand and throwing it in the waste paper bin. Carol had been moved to the NSC press room. It seemed that Leo was serious and that she was out of a job.

Toby hadn't denied that he'd known there was trouble brewing for her. He'd admitted that he'd turned up in her apartment that night so that he could see her in the calm before the storm. They hadn't talked about the kiss. They hadn't talked about the fight.  They hadn't talked about anything that mattered.

CJ wondered for the hundredth time if they'd ever communicate honestly again.

*

"Toby?" Donna hovered in the office door. "I was wondering if I could have five minutes? I know you're snowed under . ." She entered at his sigh and shut the door behind her. "How are the twins?"

"Fine. So I've been told."

"You're not going . . ?" Donna's voice tailed off at the expression of the man sitting in front of her. "C. . can I ask you how CJ's doing? I mean," she rushed on, "no one here knows anything, but we're her friends, we care, Toby. And God knows we miss her." She took a deep breath. "Is she coming back?"

Toby put his head in his hands. "I wish I knew." He let the silence linger, but knew that he would crack before Donna. She was made of strong stuff.

"I . . we. . .I'm doing my best, Donna, but my ex-wife and the Acting President and his merry men are making my life hard enough. All I can say is that I take her food every night and I make sure she's asleep when I leave. I don't know what else to tell you."

"And who is taking care of you, Toby?" Donna's voice was gentle.

He sat up straighter. "I will be fine if CJ is fine. That's the bottom line. If she . . . Look, Donna, I don't have the energy for this – can you understand that?" 

Donna nodded her head and laid the sliced beef sandwich she had been carrying on his desk. "This is something I can do, Toby. Let me? Please?"

*

The sharp knock on her door roused CJ from her trance. She decided to ignore it. Toby had a key.

"Ms. Cregg?" An official sounding voice. "Mrs. Bartlet is waiting to come in."

Abbey? What was Abbey doing here? Maybe there was news? CJ leapt to her feet and opened the door to the agent.

"Abbey? Is she okay? Have they found her?" CJ's words tumbled out of her mouth like uncorked champagne. The small woman standing before her looked even smaller than she remembered. And so, so sad. A slight shake of the head.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," CJ couldn't control her grief or pinpoint the cause of it. The apology swirled in her mind and out of her mouth as the tears coursed down her cheeks. Just how many tears could she cry? Maybe she would drown in them. The room began to swim and before she knew it, gentle hands had maneuvered her to the couch and pulled her into a hug.

"I'm here for you, CJ. Not for me" Hands in her hair, on her face, wiping her tears  (oh, how she missed her own mother), a kiss on the head.

"What have they done to you, darling?" A rhetorical question, a mother's question.

CJ pulled herself together. What right did she have to this woman's sympathy? "I'm sorry, Abbey." Apology again, but controlled this time, more together, more rational.

"You have enough on your plate without worrying about me. I'm fine. Really I am. Toby is keeping me together – amazing isn't it – the man no one assumes to have any personnel skills." Her tears coursed down her cheeks again, but this time she was oblivious. "He . . . he's the only thing stopping me. . ."

"Don't do it, Claudia Jean." Abbey's face was wet now too.

"Do what?"

"Ring Sam. Run away."

CJ stared at the woman now squeezing her hands. " Why do you think I would do that? How do you know I haven't already done so? What if I told you I'd already made the call . ." More words than she knew she had in her head swept out of her mouth, rippling the air between them.

"Sam isn't Toby, CJ. Sam has never been Toby, despite the passion and the words. He is his own man and while he would snap you up – no one in their right mind wouldn't, he's not Toby." Abbey's face showed the strain of keeping check on her terror for her missing daughter while she tried to cling on to the 'daughter' about to step into the current.

CJ laughed humorlessly. "No one is trying to snap me up. Social Secretary, Abbey, they wanted me to be his Social Secretary. Leo . . .even Leo . ." She choked back the sob that threatened her composure. Too late. Too late to stop the deep shuddering breaths that always accompanied her dreams of betrayal; the gasping for air.  "You know that Toby came to see me – he waited here for me. He * knew * what they were going to do and he let me kiss him and want him and he walked away from me without saying anything." She curled into her knees and covered her face with her hands. "I can't do this anymore, Abbey. I can't look anyone in the eye; can't hear their voices without thinking that they know I've failed, that they're better off without me. I can't tell you how much this hurts."

Abbey laid her hand on the weeping woman's head and leaned close, "Don't leave us, CJ. We can't lose another daughter, not now. Promise me you'll give us time. God knows we all need some time."

CJ turned into Abbey's arms and sobbed. 

Abbey felt the warmth of CJ's desperate hold and dreamed of Zoey.

*

"What I think you're forgetting, Toby," Walken's deep voice rang around the Oval Office, "is that I am the one making decisions around here. Not Leo, not you - me. The buck stops here, my friend." He stood and his vast presence bore down on Toby like atmospheric pressure. "Mike is doing a damn fine job in that Press Room. We are not here to be liked and I have to say that the previous Press Secretary's levity irritated the hell out of me at best. Most of the time it made me want to slap her."

Toby gasped at the man's words and he opened his mouth to respond, catching Leo's warning glance as he did so.

The Acting President continued, "We are letting those madmen know we are after them and we're letting the people, the Great American People, know exactly who is in charge. I will not have this Office be seen as weak or indecisive." He lifted his hand and brought it swiftly down onto the desk, ending with a flick of his fingers instead of the anticipated fist.

Toby wondered whether years of tradition and history would have been smashed to smithereens if Walken had used his full power to make his point. The suppressed violence in the man fascinated and sickened him simultaneously.

"Yes, Sir. But with all due respect, we need the Press on our side. They are naturally sympathetic at a time like this, but if they are antagonized, we will lose that advantage and it will degenerate into a battle against other parts of the Administration; other parts that are trying hard to run the country at a very difficult time. We still have to feed people and educate them and take our place in the world's government. These things don't stop, Sir and CJ knew it. She juggled those responsibilities with amazing competence and, yes, she was liked – I think that there are more than a fair few of us who can give testament to the times she used her popularity to get us out of a hole." Toby paused to consider the impassive rock of a face above him. "I'm not saying that CJ should do every briefing. I'm just saying that I think we can do better with her than without her."

Walken sniffed. "I'm not sure I can trust a woman who beats up on one of her colleagues. And I'm not sure I can respect a man who lets her."

Toby took a step forward.

"Toby!" Leo's voice cracked out. "In my office. NOW!"

*

Toby paced the floor, fists clenched in his pockets, a vein throbbing visibly in his head. 

Leo came in and quietly closed the door behind him. "No. You don't get to speak, Toby. You get to listen." He put his hand on the other man's arm to stop him, and applied pressure. "You nearly committed professional suicide in there. What the hell were you thinking? You may not like him, but he is President, for God's sake. You have no say in his staffing issues or in his opinions of people. I told you already that I needed you to put your personal issues aside – I can't do this by myself, Toby. Jed told you to trust me. Well that's what you need to do." Leo released his grip. He walked to his desk chair and sank down into it. "You don't have the monopoly on love for CJ, you know." He watched that sink in.

"Leo . ."

"I haven't finished." Leo leaned his elbows on his desk. "I have to work with this President, at least in the short term. CJ's head was what he wanted, for whatever warped reason, and that's what I had to give him. It's called compromise, Toby – something I know you hate. You have no idea how many times in this job I've had to do that or what it has cost me personally. Well, you know about one of them. Jenny couldn't handle it either." He stood again and walked round to face the other man. "We have to get Zoey back – it's the only way Jed will return. And if it means losing CJ on the way, then so be it. I'm sorry."

Toby felt the water rising over his head and the cold seep into his bones.

"I understand what you're saying, Leo. But I'm not sure I'm the man for the job. I've let CJ down too many times in my life; I've either pushed her away or let her run when it suited my needs. I can't promise you anything." Toby walked towards the door, then turned. "We talked, you and I, before all this insanity, we talked about love. Well, Leo, I love my kids, you were right about that." Toby paused minutely, unsure how much of himself to reveal, "But CJ is part of me – I've only just come to realize it – and I don't think I can be where she isn't. That's the bottom line."

TBC


	3. Part 3

Pressure Builds 3/3 - The other parts were rated R for language. R for more than language in this part.

Notes and Disclaimers in Part 1. 

A/N: I can't tell you the value of a good beta. Thank you, Rhonda.

To all those who sent me such wonderful feedback – consider this as much yours as mine.

*

The bar was beginning to empty, CJ was on her third glass of water; Toby still holding his first scotch.

Toby pushed his drink to one side. Unfinished. He took her hand in his and pulled her to standing. "You're coming home with me tonight."

"There is really no need for you to babysit me, Toby. I'm not going to do anything stupid." But she didn't let go of his hand; if anything her grasp tightened.

"I don't for one moment think that you are." Toby blinked hard to clear his vision. "But I haven't slept in days and the only way I'm going to sleep tonight is if you're in my bed." He swallowed, "I'll take the couch."

*

CJ watched the briefing on CNN. She was tempted to hurl something at the screen but a cursory glance around the room revealed nothing that would make sufficient noise or mess. She wasn't mad enough to break things. Nearly but not quite, and the thought made her smile. 

Toby glanced up from his paper in time to catch the quirk of her lips. He dived back behind cover before she noticed, but his spirits rose just a little at the break in her mood.

"I'm going to go find some squishy tomatoes for his next appearance." CJ unfurled her legs and loped into the kitchen in search of ammunition.

Underneath the newsprint, Toby let out the breath he'd been holding. Just as he started to relax for the first time in days, there was a knock at the door. Glancing quickly through to the kitchen to make sure that CJ was occupied, Toby opened the door a crack to see Leo's exhausted face the other side.

"Can I come in, Toby?"

"You want to come in?" Toby kept his hand against the door to stop it opening any further.

"That's what I said." Leo's voice had a hollow edge to it. A lonely edge that not even Toby could fail to pick up on. " I could use a friend at the moment."

The door swung open, all hesitation in Toby's mind erased at the thought of this man in trouble; this man, like Atlas; this man with more strength of mind than any Toby had encountered before; this man – asking for help.

Leo walked across the room and sank into Toby's leather chair, pressing his shoulders back into the cushion and leaning his head back, eyes closed. He started to speak, voice graveled and chocolate with tiredness. "I don't expect you to take sides, Toby. I don't expect you to come up with solutions. But the friend I lean on, the man I draw on when I have sunk as low as I can – that man has worries I can't even imagine. The last thing he needs is me crying on his shoulder." Leo opened his eyes and focused on Toby still standing by the door. "Sometimes . . just sometimes, I need to off load."

A moment, and then Toby looked down at the floor and quickly back up at Leo. "CJ's here," he said softly.

Leo stilled in his chair and his shoulders lifted in despair. He raised his eyebrows.

"In the kitchen. She went to find things to throw at the television for when Phillips next briefs."

Despite himself, Leo's lips twisted in a brief smile. "She's getting back to her old self then?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Leo." CJ's voice rasped out from the kitchen doorway. "Although once I've hurled a few of these, who knows? Do you think I should wait for Mike Phillips, or do you think you're as good a target?"

"CJ . ." Toby kept his voice low, but the plea was implicit. She looked quickly up at him and a flash of understanding and empathy glittered in her eyes.

"I think I'll make some tea. Would you like some, Leo?" She crossed to the man sitting hunched in the chair and briefly touched his shoulder.

"Thank you." Leo just as briefly touched her hand before watching her swing her way into the kitchen. He sighed and said quietly, "I miss her just as much as you all do."

Toby waited in silence.

"Josh will be here soon," Leo continued. "I asked him to give me five minutes just to make sure you didn't kick me out on my ear. He has no idea that CJ is with you . . ."

Once again a knock sounded at the door. 

Toby pulled Josh into the apartment and bundled him towards the kitchen. " Go and show her that you still love her – that you don't think this is her fault.  Mend the broken bit that is yours, Josh."

Toby closed the kitchen door, leaving himself and Leo space - space for Leo to talk, and space for Toby to listen.

*

"Hey, CJ" Josh gasped at the sight of the woman in front of him. Where there once had been a river in full flow, there now was a trickling stream. It appeared to him that she had lost weight and height. Impossible. Not his CJ. Never. It broke his heart. "Come here . ."

CJ ran into his arms and let him hug her tightly. "Oh God, Josh. I'm so sorry. ."

"Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about, you did nothing wrong. You are too good for Walken – that's why he did what he did. God, CJ, the man has been in politics a long time, he knows how to disarm this administration without causing it to collapse completely. Without you there, without your wit and humanity on the screen and in the papers for everyone to see and read, without you there is no reminder of Bartlet with his wit and his humanity. Have you never seen the parallels yourself? No wonder Jed Bartlet sees you as a daughter  . ." Josh smiled at the horror on CJ's face. "You don't have all the nerdy stuff, CJ – you're not Mrs. Fluffy, don't panic."

"Josh . ."

"I'm serious, CJ. You are the biggest threat to Walken and his attempt to stamp his control on the Presidency. You are too visible and far too good at your job." Josh took her hand and leaned against the breakfast bar, "By forcing Leo to compromise over you, he weakened all of us. Walken needs us to be able to operate, but, CJ – he wants the glory of clearing up this mess and he wants the thrill of retribution. If you hadn't been so good at what you do, you'd still be in that Press Room."

Josh took in the worry and the fear written in the lines round her eyes. "Is Toby taking good care of you? 'Cause if he's not . . ."

CJ smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "He is, Josh. There's no one better at it." She whispered into his tousled hair. "And thank you, Josh. Thank you so much."

*

Josh carried the tea through to the living room, the three men drinking in silence. 

After a few minutes Toby joined CJ in the kitchen. "You okay?" He touched her hip lightly.

"Yes."

"Come and say goodbye?"

"Give me one minute." CJ leaned into his touch and then watched Toby walk back to join Leo and Josh, who were standing by the door, waiting. She picked up something from the table.

"Leo!"  CJ raised her arm.

He turned in time to catch the tomato, gripping it just hard enough for the soft fruit to burst its skin and let the sweet juice and pips drip down his wrist and onto his shirt cuff. They held each other's gaze for a moment.

"Guess that makes us both feel a bit better, then?" Her eyes dropped first and she turned away from him and towards Toby, always towards Toby.

"It's a start, CJ." Leo said softly, and he wiped at the stain with his handkerchief before opening the door and leaving, closely followed by a grinning Josh. 

*

Toby smiled warmly at CJ, catching her wrist and shaking it, loosening her grip on the sack of tomatoes. He took it from her and placed it gently on the table.

CJ couldn't take her eyes off him, weariness sweeping through her marrow and making her sway. 

He leaned forward to circle his arm around her waist and pull her to him. The movement was fluid, natural; its rightness kept surprising her.

"Let me put you to bed, CJ. You're exhausted," Toby whispered into her hair and he sensed more than heard her agreement. 

Arms wrapped around her, he somehow managed to maneuver them to the bedroom and the bed with its clean linen. 

As she sat, CJ inhaled and was absurdly comforted by the smell of Toby's laundry soap; his scotch and cigars had always done it for her before and now she could add his laundry to the list. 

She lay down, kicking off her shoes and undoing her jeans, before wriggling out of them. 

Toby stood mesmerized, unable to move, even though he knew he should. He reassured himself with the thought that were she uncomfortable with his presence, she would have said so by now. As she lifted her shirt over her head, he cleared his throat in embarrassment and who knows what else, and at last made his move to leave.

"Don't go. Please." Her voice was vulnerable, anxious once again, and it rooted him to the spot. She was half sitting, half lying on his bed, dressed only in her underwear, and she needed him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, careful to keep the direction of his eyes innocent, even if his thoughts and body were not.

CJ struggled for something to say. She had to keep him with her, had to explain how near she was to the edge, to being washed out of reach. Make him understand that if he were to push her away again, she would break into a million pieces and turn into sand.

"I nearly rang Sam." She waited for this to register.

"Why didn't you?" 

It seemed that Toby was unsurprised. He was aware of all her escape routes and this was no surprise to her either. Just how did they come to know each other so well?

"Fear, mainly. Fear and shame." CJ rested her hand on his knee, her fingers anxious, tapping. "And Abbey."

Toby turned his head at this. "You saw Abbey? When? How?"

"She paid me a visit."

"CJ . . ."

"Hush, Toby. She was wonderful. How she found time for me, I don't know."

"She thinks of you as family."

"So she said." CJ turned into him, resting her cheek against his thigh, "She said that Sam wasn't you . ." Wiped her hand across her eyes, burning with the shame of running again. * Almost * running. "Josh said that I reminded Walken of Jed Bartlet." 

She gulped for air. "I'm not sure who I am anymore."

Those words fell into the pit of Toby's stomach. He ran his fingers through her hair and over her face, tracing with utter delicacy the contours of her features, his face a mask of concentration, his eyes pools of unfathomable depths. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and caught the skin of his thumb. Without another thought, she raised herself on both elbows and brought her face closer to his. 

His hands warmly cupped her cheeks and he lowered his mouth to hers. 

"CJ?" The question had to be asked as their breaths mingled. He'd never know otherwise; never know if it was what she wanted, or just a product of his own desire.

"Yes." One word was enough to dispel all doubts and bring their lips together. At last a consensual kiss; reciprocated by both. She believed he wanted her now. Believed that he had no other agenda to work. And she knew she wanted him. Desperately.

Their lovemaking was slow and unhurried. His clothes were shed without effort, her hands stroking, caressed each uncovered inch of him, her tongue teasing and sucking and driving him wild. She waited until he was completely naked before easing him onto his back and lowering herself onto him. For the first time in over a week, she felt whole, anchored, secure. At last she moved, and as the pressure built with each stroke, she craved release, taking his hand and showing him where to touch her, leaning so her breast was in reach of his mouth.

She shattered.

And he held her safe.

*

The morning light found them still wrapped up in each other. Toby woke first and was astonished to find that they had barely moved; he felt her surrounding him and his body responded, rising into her. As he tried to withdraw, embarrassed by his desire and anxious not to hurt her, CJ pulled him closer and she pressed her hips onto his, turning them again so that this time he could look down on her, control the speed of his thrusts. This time was short and sweet.

"You said that you don't know who you are anymore." Toby lay on his side watching CJ run her fingers over his chest. "Do you really feel like that?"

"Yes." CJ rolled on to her back and stared at the ceiling. "Look at us, Toby. Just a few days ago I kissed you and you pushed me away. We haven't talked about it -  in the same way we haven't talked about you feeding me and looking after me and why I'm not sitting at home in Dayton looking for a job. We always used to talk." She swallowed hard and continued, " I'm not sure I can look my friends in the eye anymore. I know how Josh feels, but what about the others? I can't take their pity, Toby and I can't take not knowing how to be around you – I can't keep my need for you secret anymore." She blushed at the revelation, but could dissemble no more. "I don't recognize myself. I don't know who I am or what I am. The water is closing in over my head."

Toby stroked her cheek with his index finger, eventually taking hold of her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I'll teach you who you are. We'll spread out your diamond parts on my bed and I will hold each up to the light and tell you the story of its beauty; show you in what way it is unique."

The water receded with each word he gave her.

"And before I slot each piece in its place, I will polish it and whisper my love. My love will be your glue – it will set solid and permanent. You will shine brighter than before. You just have to find your faith, and then we will be home and dry."

"You love me, Toby?"

"I love you, CJ."

They lay content in the silence for a minute, both accepting the shift in the nature of their relationship, secure in its foundation of friendship and affection. CJ didn't think she wanted ever to move out of that bed with its Toby scent and its Toby warmth; Toby knew that she had to.

"Come into the office this morning." This murmured into her hair, hands soothing skin, smoothing the fear that rippled through her.

"Toby, I can't . . . what will I do? What will I say?" CJ's voice trembled as she burrowed her head into his chest, curling her arms in between them. 

Toby kissed the top of her head, one hand warm against the nape of her neck, the other, thumb stroking, caressing her cheek. "Just for an hour, just to see your friends. They miss you, CJ; they're worried about you. I promise to get you out of there the minute you've had enough." He smiled, "We'll even take the tomatoes and see if you can throw them from the back of the Press Room. Just imagine the headlines . . ."

CJ lifted her head and stared at him. Finally she allowed him a smile. "And if I need you . . ."

"I'll be right there in my usual curmudgeonly fashion. Right behind you as I always have been. And if you feel like running, just remember what this feels like," and he rolled her onto her back and casually slid a finger against her sex, feeling her jump and then press against his hand. " 'Cause I know that's one way I'm going to get through my day." Toby grinned down at her and dropped a kiss on her mouth. "Race you to the shower . . ."

"Toby . ."

He stopped, one leg already out of bed, floored by the strain in her voice.

"Soon, Toby, soon, we need to talk about Andi and the babies. They're not going to go away – you  . . .I  . . . wouldn't want that."

Toby looked down at her, his face serious. "We will talk about it, CJ. I just need to get my head round it first." He saw fear and insecurity flicker in her eyes and took her hand, squeezing gently. "I can't deny that it isn't going to be messy – all of it, Molly, Huck, Andi; Leo, your job. But I can promise that I will talk to you about it; about my concerns, about my nightmares and about my hopes and dreams. I'm not letting you go again, CJ." He smiled gently, "Except now – 'cause I'm not letting you steal all the hot water . . ."

CJ grinned into the pillow as she watched him run naked to the bathroom.

"You're a low-life, Ziegler. Don't think you're going to pull that trick again in a hurry."

She felt the shore beneath her feet and took her first tentative step towards dry land.

*

Donna flew across the Bull Pen and threw her arms around CJ's waist, holding her in a tight embrace. "CJ, thank God, . . . oh I can't tell you how much we miss you." 

CJ laughed and bent to kiss Donna's cheek, squeezing her shoulder gently in appreciation of the affectionate outburst.

Donna couldn't stop, "Carol is going mad over at the NSC, she's desperate to come back. Well, actually, she said to tell you that you are to call her whenever you need someone, wherever you go." Donna released CJ but stayed close. Her voice dropped slightly, "It's not the same here; Will is like a frightened rabbit – Walken intimidates him, knocks his self-esteem, plays on him being the new boy. Josh is working every hour God sends, taking up the slack because Leo is having to devote all his time to handholding the President. He's also patching things up with the Press, trying to contain the damage that that shit Phillips is doing – I swear the only thing that keeps them all in line in there is the hope that you'll be back soon." She paused. "You will be back won't you, CJ?"

CJ stared at her through glassy eyes, unable to speak.

Donna glanced at her watch. "You'd better get out of here for a while, Phillips is due to brief and he likes to make his presence felt before he descends on the Press Room. Why don't you wait in Toby's office – you can watch him in action, watch and spit."

CJ let Donna lead her out of the Bull Pen and sit her on Toby's couch. She was moved by the small smiles and touches thrown her way by harassed looking staff; Ginger managed a quick hug and Will. Well, CJ thought he looked like he might cry. She was amazed by the anger she could feel swirling in her gut. She no longer wondered if these people had conspired against her, been relieved to see her go. She knew that she loved them, was proud of them, and like a cat with its kittens, would claw at anybody or anything that threatened to hurt them.

From her vantage point on Toby's couch, CJ could feel the change in atmosphere as Mike Phillips scuttled through the Bull Pen, an acolyte on either side acting as a bodyguard or escort. She felt the energy being sucked out of these dynamic people, noticed the dropped heads, the averted eyes. Someone had to stand up to him, surely.

Toby stopped by Donna's desk. "Mike." The name was said softly, but charged with meaning.

Phillips paused momentarily. "Toby." His voice flat and disinterested.

"I see you are on your way to brief and I notice that you haven't bothered to read my notes on the Education Bill. How can you brief when you don't know the line being taken by this administration?"

Silence and stillness. Ears pinned back to catch the barbs in what had become a daily ritual in the Bull Pen.

"I think I am in a stronger position than you to know the views of this President, Toby. Just how many meetings have you taken in the Oval Office recently?" Phillips curled his lips in a facsimile of a smile. "Although I suppose you haven't really had time for work – you've been too busy keeping your girlfriend out of trouble. I really wonder what the mother of your children thinks about that. Remind me to ask her."

"That's not fair!" Donna was on her feet.

"Donna," Toby's soft voice in her ear and his hand on her arm persuaded her to sit. "Don't honor him with a response, he's not worth it."

Phillips turned to face the staff. "I think it is time for all of you to consider your loyalties here. Glenn Walken is President now. If you can't hack it, I suggest you review your options. There are many more able and committed people out there who would kill to do your jobs. No one is indispensable."

Then he was gone, continuing his journey to the Press Room.

Toby stood his ground. "At the risk of repeating myself, I urge you all to remember why you work here and who brought you here. We * need * to stay, we * need * to find Zoey Bartlet, and we * need * to have our President back. We can't help if we are not in the West Wing. Bite your tongues and do your work. I can't afford to lose any more of my friends." He nodded once and stepped into his office. Closing the door behind him.

CJ stood. "You are an amazing man, do you know that?"

Toby smiled sadly. "Have you been thinking about what I did to you this morning?"

"No, Toby, just you, just now . ."

He waved her away in embarrassment but she caught his hand and held it against her heart.

Toby lifted her hand and kissed the knuckles quickly. "Let's watch the man do his worst." And he switched on the television, pulling her to lean next to him, his arm around her waist, fingers lightly stroking.

The screen flickered into life and the ugly man with the ugly voice filled it. Phillips appeared to be shouting – the lights showed a slight sheen on his upper lip.

"When will you people understand that I will tell you when and what I want to tell you. There is no point in repeating your questions over and over again, you are just wasting your time and mine."

CJ turned to Toby. "He's like my Math teacher at High School – and he's having about as much success as Mr. Smith at controlling the class."

Toby was about to answer when the phone rang beside him.

"Yes. Fine. I'm onto it. And Leo, pass on my good wishes, will you." Toby replaced the receiver and started to write on his pad.

"What is it, Toby? What's going on?" CJ craned her head to see what he was writing. 

"You're coming with me, that's what's going on. Come on." He took her hand and pulled her from office and down the corridor. Various heads popped up as they half ran, half walked towards the Press Room, Toby keeping his paper out of CJ's reach until they arrived outside the closed door.

Toby reached for CJ and kissed her soundly on the lips. Then he tidied her hair and wiped the slight smudge of lipstick away with his thumb. "You are going in there and you are going to read this."

"Toby, I . ."

"Now, CJ, now. You're back on dry land, back where you belong. Get in there and do your thing. NOW!" He opened the door and pushed her in, following closely behind her.

Lights flashed and then a chorus of voices, "CJ! CJ! CJ!"

Phillips turned towards the door, "What the hell . . ." His sentence was drowned out but the cacophony.

CJ strode up to the podium and lifted her hand for quiet. It worked. "If you would excuse me, Mike?" 

Phillips had no choice but to grudgingly step to one side.

She gripped the edge of the lectern and smiled at the sea of faces.

"It's good to see you too. Now, I have a short statement to make and then I will leave. There will be another briefing in half an hour and I will try and answer all your questions then. Please be patient." CJ adjusted the glasses on the bridge of her nose and began to read,

"It is with the greatest pleasure and relief that I can tell you that Zoey Bartlet has been found safe and unharmed . . ."

*

Walken stood implacably behind the desk in the Oval Office, watching Mike Phillips pace back and forth, outrage and hostility vying for control of his voice.

"I think you have done enough, Mike." Walken's words rumbled to the end of the room, halting the smaller man's diatribe. "You have denied me my moment of glory. By letting that woman stand and speak in front of the cameras, the victory is Bartlet's; a double victory, political and personal." He paused and considered his massive hands. " Don't think I won't remember. Now get out."

"Mr. President, let me explain . ."

Neither man noticed the side door open.

Walken lifted his hand and pointed. "I have heard enough. You are over. It's over. . ."

"I couldn't agree more, Glenn." Jed Bartlet stood near the carpeted Presidential seal. He was an older man than the one who'd signed the paper giving Walken control.  He was a thinner man than the father who'd attended his daughter's college graduation.  In short, facing the possibility of his daughter's death had forged a change in him that his own battles with mortality had never done.  

Even though Jed Bartlet seemed to be surrounded by a warm bubble of relief that had buoyed his spirits, on his shoulders he still carried the despair of the days before, and in his eyes was reflected a knowledge of pain that only parents with missing children could recognize.  It was a different man who stepped into the Oval Office.  A tougher man, yet an even more caring man.  He was a President whose ethical and moral limits had been tested to the extreme.  He had not only survived it all, but by his actions he had ensured that the Office of the President had survived as well.

"For the first time in several weeks, you've said the words as I would have spoken them." Jed stretched out a hand, forcing Walken to shake it. "It  * _is * _ over."

Jed took back his hand and turned his back on the Acting President.

"Leo. Set things in motion, would you. I'd like my job back." He raised his eyebrows. "What's next?"

*

CJ settled into her office chair. "Carol?"

A smiling face answered her call. "Yes, boss?"

"You misspelled Walken's name in every one of these briefing announcements."

Carol grinned unrepentantly.  "Want me to fix them?"

CJ raised her eyebrows.  "Of course."  She gave her assistant a wry smile.  "But you don't have to do it in a hurry."

"Right.  I'll put it on my 'to-do when hell freezes over' list."  Carol pulled a notepad from her pocket.  "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Get Toby for me will you? We have a house to move into today, and some chili to eat tonight." She stopped suddenly,  "You know, I don't think I've ever been happier to say that!"

CJ grinned and looked around her office.

She was home.

The End


End file.
